Just Two Small Town Boys
by KlaineLuver206
Summary: Because of two bullies at his school, Blaine has turned to cutting. When Jeff and Nick find out, will they convince him to try to stop? Or will they just not care? When Kurt transfers, will he figure it out? Will Blaine ever stop cutting?
1. Chapter 1

**Erin: Hi! Welcome to my new story, Just Two Small Town Boys.**

**Blaine: Did you get the title from Don't Stop Believing? But changed the wording a little?**

**Erin: Yes.**

**Blaine: What are you planning on doing to me _this _time? Making me straight? Making me pregnant? What?**

**Erin: Close. You cut. And I am not writing this to portray cutting in a good way.**

**Blaine: And I'm glad you don't own Glee.**

* * *

Blaine Anderson walked through the halls of Dalton Academy, his hair not even gelled, with his brown messenger bag over his shoulder with his head down. He couldn't deal with the day-to-day torturing he had to endure from Sebastian and Hunter. Even though he was in the Warblers with one of them, they had never really gotten along.

"Hey, fag," Hunter greeted Blaine as he walked into the choir room. As he walked past Sebastian, Jeff and Nick waved him over. Blaine sat with them.

"Don't listen to them. Hunter says he's 'not even remotely bi-curious,' and Seb is gay," Nick said.

"It's hard not to listen to them. I can't deal with it," Blaine replied.

"Don't tell me you've cut," Jeff whispered, grabbing Blaine's arm and pulling back the blazer and shirt.

"No! Jeff, I'm not that stupid," Blaine denied, but the little red marks on his wrist said otherwise.

"Blaine Devon Anderson!" Jeff yelled in the middle of practice, which caused everyone to stare at them.

"I'm sorry! It was the only option!" Blaine yelled.

"Dude, cutting is a habit that's hard to break. You think it'll be easy, but it's not," Nick said, speaking from experience. When Nick came to Dalton for the first time, he had been through harsh teasing and even being shoved in lockers at his old school. He tried very hard to quit, and eventually did, but it took around two years. He hasn't had a relapse since.

"I know, but-," Blaine tried to defend himself but got interrupted by Nick.

"We are taking you to the health center. You have started something that will be hard to quit. Cutting is an addiction. People don't treat it like that, but it is. Trust me. I was close to relapse once when my parents divorced," Nick said.

"Fine," Blaine grumbled.

* * *

"Blaine, you've probably heard what I'm gonna tell you from your friends, but I'm gonna say it anyway: Cutting is an addiction. And just like any other addiction, cutting is hard to break. People think it's their last option, but it isn't. I understand bullies have been bothering you, but this isn't a viable option. In fact, if you keep cutting, bullies will have more to bully you for," Nurse Daniels said.

"Nick told me that cutting was an addiction. But when I started, I wasn't thinking about Nick. I just thought about my problems and Seb and Hunter," Blaine recalled.

"I'm going to request to see you once every two weeks to make sure you haven't made another cut," Nurse Daniels requested. "Not during class time, however. When you're in your dorm with nothing to do, just come on down. Even if you have homework. Come on down. You can do your homework at one of the beds."

"OK. Thanks," Blaine said and went to find Nick and Jeff who were sitting outside the center.

"How'd it go?" Jeff asked.

"She requested I see her bi-weekly during idle time," Blaine answered.

"Now that she's seeing you bi-weekly, you have to stop. She will look everywhere," Nick warned.

"If he doesn't make the cuts in obvious places...," Jeff's voice trailed off.

"No. She will check everywhere," Nick replied.

"Doesn't she realize that will make cutting seem more appealing to me?" Blaine asked.

"How long has this been going on?" Nick asked.

"Since freshman year," Blaine answered truthfully.

"FOR TWO YEARS?" Nick yelled.

"I could hide it for two years. That deserves points, doesn't it?" Blaine asked, joking.

"No. No, it doesn't. You should've come to us. We could've helped you," Nick answered.

"I forgot! I've been cutting ever since that fateful day freshman year when I came out to my parents. My dad yelled at me and called me an 'abomination,'" Blaine confessed.

"We had to deal with that, too. But did we resort to cutting? No. Well, Nick did, but I didn't. Blaine, you're stronger than that," Jeff said.

"Let me see your arms," Blaine demanded.

Jeff handed Blaine his left arm with no shame. Blaine lifted up the blazer and shirt sleeves to find nothing there. Jeff also offered his right arm to Blaine, which there were no cuts on.

"Sorry, Jeff," Blaine apologized.

"No. No. It's OK. You just wanted to see if what I've been denying is true or not," Jeff replied.

"You're right. I am stronger than this. I can decide whether to cut or not," Blaine said.

"It's not that easy," Nick replied.

"And you think I don't know that? I'm willing to work to stop," Blaine said.

"Sometimes people who cut need therapy to help them. I went through that. It was the only thing that kept me sane," Nick said.

"Good. Because I don't think I can stop on my own," Blaine said, telling the truth.

"Jeff and I are gonna get you the help you need," Nick suggested.

"OK," Blaine agreed, thankful for his friends.

* * *

In the choir room, everyone was seated except for Nick, Jeff and Blaine, who walked inside the room right when they were gonna go through Sectionals soloists.

"Who is auditioning for a solo?" Sebastian asked.

Nick, Jeff and Blaine raised their hands.

"Nick, you're up," Sebastian announced.

"Blaine, this is for you!" Nick said and then sang Perfect by P!nk.

"Why did you dedicate that song to me?" Blaine asked.

"I think everyone in this room should know that because of Sebastian and Hunter, Blaine has turned to self-harm. Meaning he cuts himself," Nick revealed.

"Jeff?" Sebastian called.

Jeff sang 'If I Die Young' by The Band Perry. He looked at Blaine and Nick at various times during the song, so it was obvious who the song was dedicated to, even if it was unspoken.

"Blaine?" Sebastian asked.

Blaine sang Simple Plan's Welcome To My Life. When he was done, he wasn't just on the verge of tears. He was crying.

"I cut. I believe it releases my pain. I started freshman year. My dad is abusive toward gays. Why I thought I could just come out and have no harm, I have no idea. Cutting is a way for me to feel pain greater than any bully has made me feel, which makes me feel relieved," Blaine cried.

"Where?" Trent asked.

"Wrist. Easily hidden by the Dalton uniform," Blaine answered.

"How many a day?" David asked.

"Two to five. Everyone has their demons, some easier to hide than others. Cutting makes me feel sane," Blaine replied.

"It's dangerous. One cut too deep and...," Jeff's voice trailed off.

"I know. That's why I'm trying to stop," Blaine said.

"Blaine, I'm here for you. So is everyone else. Have you gone to the health center yet?" David asked.

"Yeah. I'm supposed to go down there once every two weeks to make sure I haven't made another cut," Blaine answered.

"Good. We don't want you to die," Sebastian cried.

"Wasn't trying to kill myself," Blaine said.

"Then why? Why cut?" David asked.

"My dad bullied me for being gay, so I started cutting. It was the only thing that was more painful than being bullied," Blaine answered.

"Listen, most of us in here have come out to homophobic parents. You can check all of our arms and the rest of our bodies. Will you find cuts? No. Well, with the exception of Nick," Thad said. No one noticed it, but when anyone said "with the exception of Nick," Nick looked away, ashamed of himself and thinking he had gone too far.

"He's right, you know. With the exception of me, you won't find cuts on anybody else's bodies," Nick added. "We are gonna help you through this addiction, no matter how hard it is."

* * *

**(1): I am all for gay rights, and you have no idea how hard it was for me to write that.**

**Blaine: I really hate you!**

**Erin: *sighs* Kurt comes in in Chapter 4, if _that's_ what you're worried about.**

**Blaine: No! I hate you for writing me as a cutter! _Nothing_ could be farther from the truth!**

**Erin: I've written weirder things...**

**Blaine: She has. She's made me pregnant in a few fics.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Erin: Hey guys! This is Chapter Two!**

**Blaine: Of complete torture! I can't believe you did that!**

**Erin: What? Made you cut?**

**Blaine: *nods head***

**Erin: At least I warned you.**

**Blaine: Yeah, right before the story started! I hate you. By the way, Erin doesn't own Glee. If she did, she would make her fanfics real.**

* * *

Blaine leaned against the bathroom door with a knife in his hand, poised to make another cut, to join the five jagged lines that were already there.

"Blaine! I'm here!" Thad yelled, Wes following him. They were visiting for the week from Ohio State.

"Where is he?" Wes asked. Thad shrugged, which caused Wes to go into panic mode.

"How could you not know? You know he's been cutting! He could be, in the bathroom, as we speak, and you'd never know!" Wes panicked.

Blaine hurried to clean up as soon as he heard Wes's voice, which meant putting the knife in the small cabinet under the sink, the bloody tissue in his blazer pocket, the burn ointment in the medicine cabinet and turning on the sink to wash away the dark red blood that was now running down his arm.

"I'M IN HERE!" Blaine yelled.

"The door's locked," Wes replied.

"Oh," Blaine said and went to open the door.

"Blaine! I have told you a million times: Don't lock the door!" Thad said.

"Sorry. Habit," Blaine smiled a fake smile. A genuine smile hasn't left his body since freshman year.

"Yeah, right," Thad said, grabbing Blaine's wrist. "We are getting you to the healt-what are those?" Blaine looked down and noticed that when Thad grabbed his wrist, his uniform sleeves rode up. Blaine immediately went into panic mode.

"Those five lines are fresh cuts," Wes noticed. "Thank you, Wes, for noticing that. Blaine, you are coming with me," Thad insisted.

"Fine," Blaine grunted.

"Where are we taking him?" Wes asked.

"Guidance," Thad answered. Blaine tensed up at the thought of having to explain everything to the counselor, Mr. Jameson. Blaine hated him so much, and, as a result, never went to talk to him on his own free will.

"Blaine, why do you do this?" Wes asked.

"I started the day I came out. My dad is homophobic, and he called me an 'abomination,' and every time I came back since then, he called me a 'worthless, good-for-nothing fag,'" Blaine cried at the memory.

"Oh. OK. But you need to stop," Wes said.

"I'm trying! It's not that easy!" Blaine screamed.

"You should've known that! Nick had a hard time quitting. It took him two years. Two years!" Wes yelled.

"Anyways, you first," he said as he reached the door to the Guidance house.

"Hi. Is Mr. Jameson available?" Wes asked the Guidance director, Ms. Johnson.

"He's seeing a student. Do you mind waiting?" she asked.

"It's kind of an emergency," Thad spoke up.

"OK. I'll get you up there right away," Ms. Johnson said while picking up the phone.

"Which one of you is going?" "Me," Blaine answered, the first time he spoke in the Guidance house that time.

"What's your name?" Ms. Johnson asked.

"Blaine Anderson," he answered. Ms. Johnson picked up the phone and called Mr. Jameson.

"Hi. I have Blaine Anderson here to see you. He says it's an emergency," Ms. Johnson said.

"Send him up," Mr. Jameson sighed and sent the student he was seeing downstairs.

"Go on up, dearie," she said.

"You two can sit." Blaine slowly walked up the carpeted stairs. Red. The color of blood.

"Hi," Blaine said as soon as he reached the door way to Mr. Jameson's office.

"Hi, Blaine. What's up?" Mr. Jameson asked. He was dressed in a black suit with a bold red tie. Another instance of red.

"Well, it started in my freshman year...," Blaine started.

_~~Flashback~~ _

_"Mom, Dad, I'm-I like boys," Blaine revealed to his parents on October 13, 2011. _

_"WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHITTY FAG! You agree with me, Annabeth, right? RIGHT?" Jack Anderson yelled. _

_"No. I don't agree with you. Parents are supposed to love and support their children no matter what," Annabeth said. _

_"Mom's right, Dad. Just because he's gay doesn't mean you can treat him like that," Cooper spoke up. _

_"Well, no son of mine is gonna be gay," Jack grunted. _

_"Well then I guess I'm not your son anymore," Blaine cried and left the room to go to the bathroom. He locked the bathroom door and cried his eyes out and saw a shiny metal object. He couldn't make out what it was because his eyes were brimming with tears. As soon as he could see that it was a razor, he slid down the bathroom door, still crying, and made the first of many cuts. _

_~~Flashback Over~~_

"Have you made any...new ones?" Mr. Jameson asked, genuinely worried.

"Yes," Blaine answered and rolled up his blazer and shirt sleeves.

"Just today? Some of these look fresh," Mr. Jameson noted.

"Yes. I have been trying to quit. It's not easy," Blaine cried.

"No one said it would be easy. Did you want to come here at first?" Mr. Jameson asked.

"No. My friends, Wes and Thad, dragged me here. But you know what? I'm glad they made me come. I let my feelings and a story I've never told anyone, not even Jeff, out. And it felt great," Blaine answered.

"Here's an idea. Identify your triggers. Are they when someone bullies you? Or when you visit your parents? Or even when you listen to sad songs?" Mr. Jameson suggested.

"Alright. I'll see you when I have it figured out," Blaine said, standing up.

"See you then," Mr. Jameson said. Blaine descended the stairs, counting each step. It helped him feel in control.

"So what'd he say?" Wes asked, standing up, frantic.

"To figure out my triggers," Blaine answered.

"OK, good. We're on the right path to overcoming your cutting addiction," Wes said.

* * *

**Erin: I'm seeing Divergent later today! *squeals* I can't wait!**

**Blaine: Oh, lucky you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Blaine: Updating this quickly?**

**Erin: Yeah. This is the last quick update. But I'm almost done with Chapter 4!**

**Blaine: Oh shit. Torturing me.**

**Erin: Yep.**

* * *

Blaine lay on his bed, facing the ceiling, bored out of his mind. He was repeatedly throwing a Spongebob doll in the air when he heard the door open and then slam closed. Thad.

"Blaine! I'm back!" Thad yelled.

"Thank God. I am so bored," Blaine said.

"Go to the nurse. You have nothing better to do," Thad suggested.

"Good idea," Blaine said and tried to stand up. He immediately fell down.

"Blaine! Are you OK?" Thad asked.

"Yeah. My PTSD gives me panic attacks and dizziness sometimes. It's no big deal. I'll be fine. Trust me," Blaine answered.

"Just go to the nurse," Thad sighed.

"Where do you think I was going?" Blaine asked.

"Somewhere else. Or staying here, throwing that doll in the air," Thad answered.

"I am going. Goodbye," Blaine said.

"Bye," Thad responded. Blaine was out the door and headed to the health center.

"Hey, Nurse Daniels," Blaine said once he reached the health center.

"Hi, Blaine. Wrists out, shirt off," Nurse Daniels demanded.

"Can't I just roll my sleeves up?" Blaine asked.

"No," Nurse Daniels answered.

"If you made cuts on your abdomen, I need to see them, too." Blaine took his shirt off and held his wrists out so that Nurse Daniels could see.

"Good," Nurse Daniels said and examined his wrists. "Have you talked to your guidance counselor yet?"

"Yes. Wes and Thad dragged me. He told me to visit when I had figured out my 'triggers,'" Blaine answered.

"OK. Good. Do you have homework?" Nurse Daniels asked.

"Nope," Blaine replied, popping the 'P.'

"OK, then," Nurse Daniels said as a Blaine walked to the bathroom. "Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom," Blaine answered. "Where do you think?" Once Blaine was safely hidden in the bathroom, he took his hidden blade out of his pocket. The blade ran easily across his olive skin three times.

_One for Hunter. _

_One for Sebastian. _

_And one for his dad._

"I figured it out!" Blaine yelled. He proceeded to put the blade back in his pocket and wiped the blood off of his wrist. He ran out of the bathroom past Nurse Daniels and up to his room to change into a purple short sleeved polo shirt, jeans, white and red Converse and threw a white sweatshirt with the 'Starbucks' logo on it over his shirt. He ran to the Guidance house and asked "Is Mr. Jameson available?"

"Just go on up," Ms. Johnson replied. Blaine sprinted up the red carpeted stairs, almost falling down two times, and into Mr. Jameson's office.

"Woah, Blaine. Calm down," Mr. Jameson said. "Anyway, sit. Please."

"I figured it out," Blaine announced, out of breath.

"What?" Mr. Jameson asked.

"My triggers," Blaine responded while closing the door and sitting—well more like laying—on the couch.

"Well, what are they?" Mr. Jameson asked.

"Painful memories from the past and doctor's offices," Blaine replied. "Think about it. Whenever someone calls me a 'fag' or something worse, it brings up October 13 into my mind, and I feel the urge to cut. Doctor's offices because whenever I'm there, I remember how the doctor did some...stuff...to me."

"What was your reaction to the rape?" Mr. Jameson asked.

"Never use the 'R' word," Blaine growled.

"Sorry. What was your reaction to the...sexual assault?" Mr. Jameson tried again.

"I went mute for, like, a year and I tried to kill myself by overdosage. I'm just lucky Cooper found me when he did," Blaine replied.

"And who is Cooper? You've mentioned him before," Mr. Jameson asked.

"Seriously? You've never heard of Cooper Anderson before?" Blaine asked incredulously.

"Oh, he's the guy from the commercials," Mr. Jameson replied, his face clear of confusion.

"Yep. He's the one," Blaine said. "I thought I had overcome the doctor's office thing, but I guess not. When I was at the health center today, Nurse Daniels asked me to take off my shirt, and that brought back painful memories of the...r-r-r-rape."

"Take off your sweatshirt," Mr. Jameson decided.

"W-why?" Blaine stuttered.

"I want to see if you made any more cuts since the health center," Mr. Jameson explained.

"C-can I just roll up my sleeves? Taking clothes off in front of people just reminds me of the...yeah," Blaine asked.

"Of course," Mr. Jameson replied and Blaine continued to roll up his sleeves.

"Thank you," Blaine thanked him. Mr. Jameson saw three new cuts.

"No one else besides Coop knows about the...stuff...the doctor did to me, not even Jeff! Can you please not tell anyone?" Blaine asked.

"I legally can't. If you came here during a second period free, told me you had a sore throat, and went back to your dorm for the rest of the day for a sore throat, I couldn't tell anyone why you went back to your dorm," Mr. Jameson replied. "But feel free to tell people whenever you feel ready."

"Thanks. The fresh cuts you see were made in the health center today," Blaine informed him.

"Next time you feel the urge to cut, get an ice cube and put it on your arm, stomach, wherever. It works for some people, and I want to see if it will work for you, too," Mr. Jameson suggested.

"OK. I'll try it," Blaine agreed.

"You need to tell your parents about the assault," Mr. Jameson insisted.

"My dad'll just say I deserved it for being gay, and my mom'll probably agree or do nothing to stop him," Blaine replied. "And Coop moved out six months ago."

"I understand why you don't want to tell them, but you have to. If you aren't gonna tell them, tell your friends. Don't keep it to yourself. That's unhealthy," Mr. Jameson said.

"I know I have to tell someone. But not my parents," Blaine responded. "Never my parents."

"It's almost 3. Don't the Warblers have practice in ten minutes?" Mr. Jameson asked.

"Oh shit! I forgot! See you later, Mr. Jameson!" Blaine yelled his goodbye and ran down the carpeted stairs, out of the Guidance house and into the main building. He was worried he'd be late, and he had to change back into his uniform for practice. He sprinted up to his room, changed into his uniform really quickly, grabbed his blazer and, putting his left arm into the sleeve, opened, closed and locked the dorm room door. He ran down the spiral staircase to the choir room, putting his right arm into the blazer, and through the hallway, buttoning his blazer, until he reached the choir room, just before practice began. He opened the door to the choir room.

"Settle down everyone! To take a break from Sectionals practice-we've been practicing every day for six hours-I have decided to have a game practice," Sebastian proposed.

"Why? We need all the practice we can get for Sectionals," Blaine replied, sitting next to Jeff.

"I'm sure your voices hurt from the singing, and it's good to rest your singing voices for a while, which is why I have popcorn here, and we're gonna play 'Never Have I Ever,'" Sebastian explained.

"OK, everyone, sit in a circle," David demanded. "Seb, do you mind handing out the popcorn bowls?"

"Not at all," Sebastian smiled and began handing out the popcorn bowls.

"So, does everyone know how to play?" David asked.

"Yes. But isn't it normally played with beers?" Blaine asked.

"Well, yes, but we weren't allowed to bring beer on campus, so whenever someone says something like 'Never have I ever slept with anyone,' people who have done it will eat a piece of popcorn," David explained. "I'll go first. Never have I ever...cut myself." Blaine and Nick glared at Wes before eating a piece of popcorn.

"Never have I ever gotten a girl pregnant," Trent continued. Only Sebastian ate a piece of popcorn.

"Who and when?" Blaine asked.

"My old friend, Fiona. Two years ago. When my parents found out, they sent me here," Sebastian explained.

"Never have I ever worn girl's clothes," Jeff continued. No one ate a piece of popcorn.

"Never have I ever gotten therapy," Blaine continued. That pissed the hell out of Nick, who sent him a death glare as he ate a piece of popcorn.

"Never have I ever worn hair gel," Nick fired back. Sebastian and Blaine ate a piece of popcorn.

"Never have I ever taken steroids," Trent continued. No one ate a piece of popcorn.

"Never have I ever had sex with anyone. Boy or girl," David continued. Sebastian and Blaine ate a piece of popcorn.

"Blaine Devon Anderson! Who and when?" Jeff asked.

"Um, well, here's the thing. Two years ago, during Christmas break, I was at the doctor's office for a check-up. My doctor used anesthesia. I was under when he did it. He took my pants off and thrust into me. Needless to say, I don't go there anymore," Blaine revealed.

"I know how hard it is to talk about that. My sister was sexually assaulted, and it took her two years to talk about it," Jeff said. "The boy who did that to her better be damn lucky she doesn't have a baby. If she did, I would punch his face in."

"I love how protective you are over Jeanne," Nick said and kissed him. Jeff deepened the kiss, and, still kissing, left the choir room, Nick carrying Jeff bridal style.

"Pretty soon, they're gonna have to eat a piece of popcorn," Trent joked. Everyone looked at him confused. "The last 'Never have I ever' was had sex with anyone and Niff is probably gonna have sex."

"Who's 'Niff?'" Blaine asked.

"Nick and Jeff. It's easier saying 'Niff' than saying 'Nick and Jeff,'" Trent explained.

"So instead of saying 'Hunter and Sebastian,' I can just say 'Huntbastian,'" Blaine mused.

"Theoretically, yes, but I would punch your face in," Sebastian replied.

"I know you would, Seb," Blaine teased.

"That's it! I'm gonna kill him!" Sebastian yelled.

"Wow, Seb. Calm the hell down," Blaine teased.

"Stop calling me 'Seb,'" Sebastian grumbled.

* * *

**Erin: OK, OK. I'm done torturing you for today. *sad face***

**Blaine: Finally!**

**Erin: But I'll update again tomorrow! I'll write it during my study hall and during chorus. I swear there will be a new chapter tomorrow.**

**Blaine: Shit. Hey, you forgot the disclaimer!**

**Erin: Really? OK, then, I'll say it now: I don't own Glee.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Erin: Hey, guys!**

**Blaine: Fuck. I thought you _forgot_.**

**Erin: Nope! I just got back from Chorus. At least Kurt comes in.**

**Kurt: *sets bag down with a sigh* I'm here, I'm here. What do you want, Erin?**

**Erin: Nothing. From you. Just your permission for me to write fanfic about you.**

**Kurt and Blaine: Never gonna happen.**

**Erin: Too late. I need one of you to say the disclaimer, so...**

**Kurt: Erin doesn't own Glee.**

* * *

"I told them," Blaine told Mr. Jameson in the Guidance house the next day during his seventh period study hall, closing the door and laying on the pillow-filled couch.

"When?" Mr. Jameson asked, intrigued.

"We were playing 'Never Have I Ever' during Warbler practice yesterday. The last 'Never have I ever' was 'had sex with anyone,' and I ate a piece of popcorn. I admitted that I was raped then," Blaine answered.

"Finally saying the word without stuttering, are we? Well, that's progress," Mr. Jameson said.

"It was just a scary experience for me," Blaine shrugged.

"I can imagine it being more than scary," Mr. Jameson responded.

"Terrifying is an understatement," Blaine informed him. "I remember it vividly. It gives me panic attacks sometimes."

"Have you made any more cuts?" Mr. Jameson asked.

"Two. Which is an improvement, considering the time I made ten," Blaine replied.

"Ten cuts in one day? Were you trying to kill yourself?" Mr. Jameson asked.

"It was the day of the rape," Blaine explained.

"Well, I certainly see its appeal there," Mr. Jameson responded. "But you said you were going to overdose."

"After Coop found me with the pills in my hand, I decided to attempt suicide another way and try to hit a vein or artery," Blaine said.

"Blaine Devon Anderson!" Mr. Jameson yelled.

"Funny, Jeff says that all the time," Blaine mumbled.

"Can you show me those cuts?" Mr. Jameson asked.

"Of course," Blaine answered, pulling his shirt sleeve up and turning his wrist over. He pointed to the near-white vertical scars.

"What if Jeff found out about that," Mr. Jameson asked.

"Oh no. Please no. Don't tell him," Blaine begged.

"Remember when I said I legally can't?" Mr. Jameson asked. Blaine nodded. "I meant it. I can't tell a soul about this. I'll leave that to you. Did you try the ice cube trick?"

"Yes. It didn't really work," Blaine answered. "Can you give me an alternative?"

"Sure. Sometimes snapping a rubber band against your wrist helps. Can you try that for me?" Mr. Jameson asked.

"Yeah, sure," Blaine promised, and meant it.

"Thank you. But if this method doesn't work, don't get discouraged," Mr. Jameson said.

"I have to go. I have French next, and I don't want to be late to Mlle Rousseau's class," Blaine said.

"No one does. Trust me. I had her for French when I went here as a student. If you could believe it, she was hot when she was 20. She had silky brownish-reddish hair, eyes as blue as the sky, and she was so short. She could never reach the top of the board. It was cute," Mr. Jameson revealed his kid-crush on Mlle Rousseau.

"Dude, talk about her being 'hot' again, and I'm gonna have to puke. I just can't imagine her in that way. She just looks so...ew...now, and the way you described her...wow...," Blaine responded. "If she magically turned 20 again, the way you described her...I would turn straight for that."

"Just get to class," Mr. Jameson urged.

"Oh. Right," Blaine said and, grabbing his bag, ran down the stairs and out of the house. He then sprinted into the main building and up the stairs to room 236. He entered the room just as the bell rang.

"Well, well, well, look who finally decided to join us," Mlle Rousseau said.

"Sorry...was...at...Guidance...," Blaine said out of breath.

"Sit down," Mlle Rousseau sighed.

At Dalton Academy, instead of desks, they use long, dark wood tables. Blaine sat in his front row seat, next to Louis Carter. Because his last name was 'Anderson,' he always sat front row, in all his classes. He couldn't understand why all of his teachers used an alphabetical seating chart.

"Answer the questions on page 36 of your textbooks," Mlle Rousseau demanded.

"Question one. Fill in the blank: Blank le football. J'aime le football," Blaine mumbled while answering the question. He finished answering all the questions in ten minutes and put his pen down.

"Done already, Blaine?" Mlle Rousseau asked.

"Yes," Blaine answered.

"Very well. Is anyone still working?" Mlle Rosseau asked. Nick was the only one who raised his hand.

"We will wait a minute for Mr. Duval," Mlle Rousseau announced.

As if on cue, Nick put down his pen.

"Excellent. Blaine, question one?" Mlle Rousseau asked.

"J'aime le football," Blaine answered.

"Correct. Louis, next one?" Mlle Rousseau asked. They went over the assigned page until the bell rang.

"Blaine! Warbler practice today at 3!" Nick said as they were going out of the classroom.

"Is this one gonna be just games, too?" Blaine asked.

"No. We're actually going to practice. We need all the practice we can get. Sectionals is next week, and we have nothing prepared! That's why Jeff, you and I are going to run the meeting," Nick replied.

"Sounds good. So should I spread the news to the other Warblers?" Blaine asked.

"No. Jeff and I have that covered," Nick replied.

"Thanks," Blaine thanked him.

"No problem," Nick responded.

Blaine walked to his English class to take a test on Huckleberry Finn. He wasn't looking forward to it one bit. He would've taken normal American Lit, but no. Cooper encouraged him to take American Lit Honors so he could prove to his dad he's not some screw-up who got raped freshman year.

Blaine walked in and sat in his assigned front row seat. This was one of the only classrooms that didn't look like a college lecture room: room 247. Blaine sat down and looked over the study guide for what felt like the millionth time.

"Clear your desks and take out a pen and pencil," a voice demanded. Blaine jumped in his seat, startled, until he looked up and saw it was Ms. Fenwick, his teacher. She passed the scantrons to the first people in the rows.

Blaine finished his test in a half hour and laid his head down, hoping to get some sleep, but was interrupted by his teacher placing her hand on his shoulder. The unexpected human contact made Blaine flinch.

"Blaine, you don't sleep during a test," Ms. Fenwick chastised.

"Sorry, Ms. Fenwick, but I finished, and I'm really tired," Blaine apologized, yawning.

"It's OK. I've had days where all I wanted to do was sleep, too," Ms. Fenwick accepted his apology. "It's last period, right?"

"Yep," Blaine answered.

"Blaine, I'm gonna give you a pass to go to your locker to get the books you need for homework so you can go to your dorm immediately after the bell rings. Does that sound OK?" Ms. Fenwick asked.

"Yes. Thanks, Ms. Fenwick," Blaine thanked his teacher. Ms. Fenwick gave him the pass and he ran out of the room and walked through the extravagant hallway down the spiral stairs to his locker, number 1. He entered his combination, opened his locker, got his French and Trig stuff before scraping his wrist on the locker, reopening one of his cuts. "Shit," Blaine muttered, trying to stop the bleeding with his sleeve. When that didn't work, he got a tissue and pressed it against the reopened cut. He got a Band-Aid from his locker and put it on the cut when it stopped bleeding.

He slammed his locker shut and ran up the stairs back to room 247 to sit down for five minutes before the bell rang and, in those five minutes, he put his hat, coat, gloves and scarf on. All the Dalton blue. He walked to his dorm room with Jeff, who was also in American Lit Honors.

"I heard there's gonna be a new kid," Jeff said.

"Really? Do you know what dorm he's in?" Blaine asked.

"I think he's in yours," Jeff answered.

"Really? That's so cool. Is he cute?" Blaine asked.

"I don't know. All I know is his name is Kurt Hummel," Jeff replied, stopping at his locker, 210, to get his books.

"He's named after one of the characters in The Sound of Music. Now I'm interested," Blaine said. "Bye!"

"Can't wait to see him, can you? Alright. I'll visit when I'm done here," Jeff chuckled.

Blaine ran across the outdoor pathway, covered with white snow, to the dorm house. He entered the house, turning the corner for rooms 100-200. His dorm number was 107. He walked down the hall to the room. When he reached dorm 107, he swiped his key card to enter the room.

Kurt was seated on the bed, looking at an Avon catalog, black pen in hand.

"Hi. You must be Kurt," Blaine said.

"Hi. I am. And you are…?" the older boy asked.

"Blaine Anderson," Blaine answered.

"What school did you go to before this one?" Kurt asked.

"Westerville High," Blaine replied. "How about you?"

"McKinley," Kurt said. "I was bullied a lot so I transferred here."

"The bullying isn't any better here. Hunter Clarington and Sebastian Smythe are the big bullies. They don't push anyone into lockers or anything like that," Blaine said.

"Looks like I'll be bullied a lot," Kurt muttered.

"Why?" Blaine asked. He had a pretty good idea of why Kurt would get bullied, but he didn't want to make assumptions.

"Because I'm gay," Kurt explained.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" Blaine asked.

"No," Kurt answered.

"Ever kissed anyone?" Blaine asked.

"This jock who bullied me for being gay kissed me in the locker room," Kurt replied.

"Do you sing?" Blaine asked.

"Yeah," Kurt responded. "I was in McKinley's glee club."

"Are you joining the Warblers?" Blaine asked.

"What are 'the Warblers'?" Kurt asked.

"Our glee club," Blaine explained.

"Yeah. I guess so," Kurt said.

"I can take you to the rehearsal today," Blaine said.

"What time is the rehearsal?" Kurt asked.

"3:00," Blaine answered.

"Blaine, that's 5 minutes from now! We better get over there," Kurt yelled. Blaine glanced at the alarm clock.

"Let's get over there," Blaine said, walking out the door, Kurt following him.

"So, who's in the Warblers?" Kurt asked.

"Well, there's Jeff—he's your stereotypical blond. Only a bit smarter. Nick—he's dating Jeff. Nice guy, but has some issues. Trent—he joined at the same time as me. A real nice guy. Sebastard—the bully. His father's a lawyer and he once spent a year in Paris. David—another nice guy. He has a girlfriend, Tammy, but the Warblers ship him with Wes. And me—I'm gay and I have some issues, like Nick," Blaine answered.

"Sebastard?" Kurt asked. "Really?"

"It's my nickname for him. Don't judge me," Blaine said.

"No…I meant…he's in the Warblers?" Kurt asked.

"Yeah. The glee club here gets treated like rock stars," Blaine replied.

"So no one gets slushied…," Kurt said.

"Nope," Blaine answered. "What is that, anyway?"

"When someone throws a slushie in your face," Kurt answered.

"What does it feel like?" Blaine asked.

"It's like getting bitch-slapped," Kurt said.

"Ouch," Blaine said.

"By an iceberg," Kurt finished.

"Oh God. That must hurt," Blaine said. "Are you OK?"

"I-I'm fine. Just remembering the worst slushie facial," Kurt shivered.

"Which was…?" Blaine asked.

"When I stepped into the school for the very first time, I was harshly slushied by my stepbrother's best friend," Kurt answered.

"The world has a funny way of working things out," Blaine said. "Which is why I don't believe in God."

"Neither do I. Why does he make people gay, and then decide to make Neanderthals who are homophobes?" Kurt asked.

"I don't know," Blaine answered honestly.

"Who lived in 107 before me?" Kurt asked.

"Me and Thad. Thad graduated last year," Blaine answered.

"Hi, Blaine. Who's this?" David asked as they entered the room.

"Hi, David. That is Kurt. He just transferred from McKinley," Blaine replied.

"Does he have a voice?" Trent asked.

Kurt then sang 'How Will I Know.'

"What voice classification are you?" Jeff asked.

"Countertenor," Kurt responded.

"What is that?" Nick asked.

"It means I can hit the notes that a soprano and a tenor could hit," Kurt explained.

"Cool!" Jeff yelled.

"Where's the bathroom?" Kurt asked.

"Just down the hall, first door on the right," Blaine replied. "I'll take you."

"So, what language do you take?" Blaine asked.

"I'm in French 4 Honors. You?" Kurt responded.

"French 4 Honors," Blaine said.

"Cool. I wonder if we're in the same class," Kurt mused.

"Lemme see your schedule," Blaine demanded.

As Kurt handed him his schedule, Blaine's sleeve rolled up, revealing his olive-skinned arms with scattered fading pink marks.

"Blaine Anderson! What are those marks?" Kurt asked.

"Uh...uh...uh...uh...," Blaine stalled.

"I'm waiting, Blaine," Kurt said.

"I have reasons!" Blaine yelled.

"So those are what I think they are," Kurt said.

"Yes! But I'll tell you why in the dorm later," Blaine promised.

"Tell me now," Kurt demanded, giving him a bitch glare.

"My parents are openly homophobic. My dad called me a 'worthless piece of shitty fag.' And in my freshman year, my doctor raped me," Blaine said.

"I was pushed against lockers, shoved in them, my lunch card was stolen, my homework eaten, unwillingly kissed, clothes stolen in gym, pens popped on my clothes-designer, might I add, lunches dumped on me, books knocked on the floor, thrown into dumpsters, locked in port-a-potties and rolled down hills, locked in the janitor's closet, backpack stolen, slushied, called a 'fairy' or a 'fag', my gym teacher was a bitch-she called me Porcelain and Tickle-Me-Dough-Face, my stepbrother said that my design style for our room was 'faggy', and I was on Homecoming Court for 'Princess' four years in a row," Kurt answered. "And you think you have the right to tell me your life sucks? Almost all of those happened daily."

"Wow. K-Kurt, I didn't know. I'm sorry," Blaine said.

"And I don't have a mom anymore. She died when I was eight," Kurt said.

"Wow. Kurt, I-I'm so sorry," Blaine apologized.

"Don't be. You didn't know," Kurt said. "She was really nice and accepting. She honestly was the best mother there was."

"How did you deal with the pain of your mom dying?" Blaine asked.

"Do I have to tell you? It's kinda embarrassing," Kurt asked.

"You don't have to. I just want to know," Blaine said.

"Blaine, we've only known each other for around 20 minutes," Kurt said. "I don't think I trust you enough yet."

"I told you I was raped," Blaine said.

"Seems like you're guilting me into telling," Kurt said.

"Shut up," Blaine joked.

"I overdosed," Kurt mumbled.

"What?" Blaine asked. "Speak up."

"I overdosed," Kurt repeated, sighing.

"R-really?" Blaine asked, concern written in his features.

"Yep," Kurt nodded. "My dad freaked out and sent me to a support group. I was the youngest kid there."

* * *

**Erin: I feel like I'm rushing this a little, but I want to get to the hurt/comfort part.**

**Blaine: *sighs* When should I expect my next torture session?**

**Erin: When I get at least 5 reviews.**

**Kurt: At least she didn't make you overdose.**

**Blaine: Read the previous chapters, Kurt.**


End file.
